


Dressed to the Nines

by vix_spes



Series: MI6 Cafe Spectre Prompts [10]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Friendship, Gen, Pre-Slash, Suit Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 22:16:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4683356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Q really wished that he wasn't Quartermaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dressed to the Nines

“I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you properly. You want me to what?”

Q sat in one of the guest chairs in Mallory's office, hoping that he had misheard the man. Judging from the smile on Tanner's face, he had the most horrible feeling that he hadn't.

“There is a gala dinner being held in six weeks time at the Guildhall. Your presence has been requested.”

“And by requested, you mean...”

“Your presence is required Q.”

“But why?” Q was aware that his voice was verging on a petulant whine but he couldn't really bring himself to care. “I'm just the Quartermaster. Surely people would rather see you instead?”

“People will see me but they will see me in addition to you. Q, you are not just the Quartermaster. Do you have no comprehension of how well-regarded you are? Both by our staff but also other agencies?”

“Q, I've lost count of how many requests I've had for your services from other agencies? Everybody wants you.”

Q felt a little glow of happiness at Tanner's words. It faded somewhat as Mallory briskly continued with business.

“You'll have protection of course, all of the executives will. Miss Moneypenny will be accompanying myself and 004 will be attending with Tanner.”

Q had a sinking feeling where this was going and tuned back into Mallory just to hear what he had been dreading.

“... and 007 has been assigned to you for the evening.”

“Isn't there anyone else who could do it? Why do I even need anyone? My range scores are just as good as the double-0's. Even better, I could just not go.”

“Q. Your presence, as well as that of 007 as your escort, is non-negotiable. Is that understood?”

“Yes, M.” Q pushed his chair back and stood. “Was there anything else or am I allowed to return to Q-branch?”

“By all means...”

Q made it to the door before Mallory spoke again.

“One last thing Q, your normal attire won't be suitable for this event.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Her Majesty will be in attendance. Formal black tie is required. I'm sure that Tanner will be more than happy to offer suggestions if necessary.”

Q simply clenched his teeth and left, not bothering to wait for the dismissal, not trusting himself to say something stupid. So, not only did he have to go to a gala reception with bloody 007 as his escort, he had to do it dressed as a penguin. Not for the first time, he wondered if it was too late to resign his position and go back to the safety of R&D.

~*~

Four weeks after he had been informed that he was expected to attend this gala reception, Q still hadn't done anything about getting formal evening wear sorted. He just couldn't bring himself to care. If he was honest, he was hoping that if he kept putting it off that, eventually, there would surely be some mission that would need Q's attention and take precedence over the reception. He knew that it was unlikely but he could live in hope. Moneypenny was getting incredibly annoyed with him because she had made numerous appointments for him at a variety of tailors along Savile Row but, as was inevitably the case, Q had missed every single one of them due to things needing his attention in Q-branch.

He knew that he was in trouble when Bill Tanner slipped into Q-branch around lunchtime bearing several bags emblazoned with the name and address of a local restaurant. While Bill being in branch was nothing new – after all, he and Q were good friends – he didn't usually bring food with him unless it was late at night and they were monitoring a mission. Bill bringing food no doubt meant that he was inevitably going to say something that Q didn't want to hear. Calling R over to take over what he had been working on, Q directed Bill into his office and locked the door behind him before flopping down in his chair.

“So, are you going to give the bad news or feed me first?”

“Don't be so melodramatic, Q. Of course you can eat first. Go on, while it's still hot.”

Q didn't need telling twice and dived straight into the food. He had been pretty much living on Earl Grey, biscuits and pastries for the last few days while 005 raised merry hell in Bolivia so the food was very much appreciated. It didn't take him to long to wolf down his share of the food but, to his annoyance, Bill simply continued until he had finished eating despite Q fidgeting opposite him. Finally, Bill put aside his empty containers and sat forward.

“Now, we need to talk about this reception.”

“Oh Bill, not you too. I'm already bored of this bloody thing.”

“You may be bored of it but that isn't the point. You have to be there and you have to be seen to be keeping up appearances. Those cardigans and hideous trousers that you wear might be designer labels but they won't pass muster with this lot. Miss Moneypenny says that you haven't turned up for any of the appointments that she's made for you.”

Q rolled his eyes as he glanced at his computer screen to ensure that R wasn't having any issues. “Bill, have you seen the places that she's been making the appointments? Here, look … Timothy Everest, Thom Sweeney, Kilgour, Tom Ford … where did she come up with these places?”

Q looked up as he heard Bill stifle a laugh and narrowed his eyes. “What do you know Bill? What aren't you telling me?”

“Mallory favours Timothy Everest for his suits and he was happy to pass the details on. As for the others, I think you'll find that 007 has taken an interest in your attire for the evening.”

“Bloody Bond. The man's on a mission. Surely he has more important things to be doing than commenting on my sartorial choices?” Q glanced again at his computer. “And here's another one. Brioni?” Q huffed as Bill chuckled. “Let me guess, another of Bond's favourites?”

“That's right. Look, I get that you think this is a waste of time. I used to think exactly the same thing but sadly, it's a necessity. You don't have to go for all this Savile Row, bespoke tailoring that Bond and Mallory go for. Here's the card for Hackett – I get all of my stuff there – you simply go into the shop and get it off the peg, none of this standing around for hours being stabbed with pins business.”

Q took the card, slightly more taken by the idea of simply being able to walk into a shop and buy something. “That does sound far more acceptable. Thanks, Bill.”

“Just make sure you don't leave it until the last minute; you're not going to get out of this.”

Anything else Bill might have been about to say was cut off by a sharp rapping on the door to Q's office and the urgent voice of one of the minions.

“Sir, 001 came on the comms to say that he thought there was a problem with his contact and now he's gone offline. We're struggling to get him back.”

“Shit. Bill....”

“I'll leave you to it, Quartermaster.”

Q simply nodded, already completely focused on bringing up all of the intel that they had had for 001's mission as well as whatever CCTV footage and maps as he could pull up of Bangkok.

~*~

The small knot of MI6 executives and their bodyguards turned around as a familiar Jaguar pulled up and 007 got out, looking very dapper in his dinner jacket as he handed the keys to the valet. Mallory peered in at the passenger window to no avail.

“007, would you mind telling me where the Quartermaster is? Considering that you have been assigned as his escort, I was expecting him to be in the car with you.”

“I said that I would pick him up but he wanted to oversee the end of 006's mission. Apparently he has a town care booked from the pool and he said he would meet me here.”

Mallory exhaled sharply through his nose and looked impatiently at his watch. “Very well. You will wait here for him and if he is not here in 15 minutes then you will go and collect him, whether he has finished with 006 or not. Do you understand? Good. Tanner, let's go.”

Bond waited at the entrance to the Guildhall, aware of the appreciative looks being sent his way but not returning them, regardless of how attractive some of the people were. He knew that he looked good. His Brioni dinner jacket had been tailored especially for him, expertly cut to not only show off the broadness of his chest and shoulders but also to hide the Walther PPK secreted in his shoulder holster. Finally, just as the 15 minutes were up, he spotted a black car with familiar plates pulling to a stop. What he wasn't prepared for was the sight that Q made as he stepped out of the car.

Gone were the cardigans and hideous trousers, the rumpled ties and the pitiful excuses for tailoring. In their place was a divine vision. Bond didn't think he'd ever seen Q looking like this and he liked what he saw. A lot. The black velvet dinner jacket was unusual, even without the satin shawl collar, but it made Q look lean rather than scrawny and he pulled it off perfectly. As he turned to speak to the driver, Bond saw that the shorter length of the jacket and the closely tailored trousers showed off Q's arse to perfection, something that would certainly prove distracting. Q was still sporting his usual glasses and ridiculous bed head but, somehow, the whole look worked perfectly. It was just so Q and Bond wanted him more than ever. Bond smiled as Q got closer.

“Well look at you Quartermaster, all dressed up to the nines. Gieves and Hawkes if I'm not mistaken. Am I right?”

“You are. I'm not totally inept, Bond.”

“I never said you were Q, never said you were.”

“Hmm,” Q arched an eyebrow. “Besides, not all of us are built to wear Brioni.”

Q grinned as Bond spread his hands and conceded defeat,not even complaining as Bond slid a hand to the small of Q's back to usher him into the Guildhall. He was actually rather pleased he had managed to speak at all; Bond in formal evening wear was somehow even more distracting than in his usual suits. He almost squeaked as Bond's hand slid from the small of his back to rest at the top of his arse, Bond's thumb rubbing back and forth over Q's hipbone through the fabric.

Clearly he wasn't the only one distracted by formal wear and maybe, just maybe, the evening might be more tolerable than he had thought possible.


End file.
